Tuesday, October 20, 2009

A Garden of Grief

Now is not good,but it will only get worse.

The illness is squeezing melike a piano accordioninto a tighter and tighter note.Only with the utmost vigilancecan I swallow food and drinkpast the pleated foldsof my stomach.I do not know how it isthat my last breath hasn’t alreadyechoed thinly in the air.

One is not a family:it’s a solitary fugal voicefaltering as other entriesfade into nothingness.

This morning I took these griefs outside;with flagging breathand dereliction of bodyI cannot rant or wail.I just hoped to releasea trickle of tearsagainst the pain.But I hadn’t taken the gardeninto account: the integrityof a fifty-eight walnut tree,a vibrancy of bird songbellbird, thrush, canary, sparroweach claiming their ownspring time territory.

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About Me

What goes through the mind of someone who has lived with multiple sclerosis for 40 years? Read some of my earlier poems on my web site: Mylivinganddying.com.
I'm a people person and multiple sclerosis is stealing my ability to communicate, so I'm very grateful to anyone who responds to my journal either by comment or email.